The Consequence of Ego
by musefatale
Summary: Grindelwald/Riddle. Grindelwald has never been one to give something generously to another person; so when young Tom Riddle shows up at his doorstep with a request, he decides that he must find something to make it a fair trade. Written in 2007.


**Title: **The Consequence of Ego**  
Pairings: **Gellert Grindelwald/Tom Marvolo Riddle**  
Rating: **NC-17**  
Summary: **Gellert Grindelwald has never been one to just give something generously to another person; so when promising young Tom Riddle shows up at his doorstep with a request, he decides that he must find something to make it a fair trade. **  
Warnings: **Cross-generational slash, smut, oral, rimming, anal, begging, coarse language, uncharacteristic humor, everything you'd expect from two megalomaniacs. **  
Notes:**I'd like to first think crowz for coming up with this pairing and shoving me in the right direction with it. It worked out better than I'd ever hoped it could. And yes, I did choose just the parts of the card descriptor that worked for me – I'm a tad Slytherin like that.

**The Consequence of Ego**

The sun was blaring in Tom's eyes, reflecting off the stark white tops of the mountains that hid this grandiose manor from the view the unworthy denizens of the village far below. The hike up here was laborious, but Tom had been given instructions that the man would only see him if he made the trip on foot. He'd become comfortable with the fact that the old man was likely to make many more odd requests like this, and decided that he would _amuse_ him.

The manor would have been ominous to any one else who'd ventured up this far on the snowy trail cut into the side of the mountains, it would have stood foreboding to anyone who was not about to become the Dark Lord, Voldemort.

He rapped twice on the heavy wooden door, and turned to shield his eyes from the glare off the snow. Inside he could hear the sound of feet scurrying about and began to get impatient. He didn't deserve to be left waiting out in the cold like some common visitor. His importance was something to take note of.

At nineteen years old, Tom Riddle stood just under six feet tall. His ink-black hair sat in subtle waves though it had been meticulously slicked back from his strong, angular face. His eyes were unremarkably brown, but against his alabaster skin, they looked just as black as his hair. He would be called handsome by most, beautiful by those daring enough to utter the word in his presence, but personally, he liked _imposing_.

There was nothing imposing about the boy, however, when the heavy door swung open and he was greeted by the glistening ice blue eyes and leonine features of Gellert Grindelwald. Tom thought that it was a proper reception, a true sign of his importance that the master of the house had seen to greeting him personally.

"Come in, Tom, I've been waiting."

_Waiting_? Like _he_ was the one being inconvenienced. Tom bit back a snarl of disgust and simply followed Grindelwald inside.

"Thank you for seeing me, sir. I understand you're a very important man and sparing time for matters such as these is a great burden to your schedule," the charmer said, though his voice lacked enough sincerity to truly convince Grindelwald that his words were spoken in truth.

"Think nothing of it, my boy," Grindelwald replied, leading Tom into a small, warm sitting room just off the main hall. "I've been hearing things about you from my own dutiful followers; they speak of your potential and of your gain in popularity. You have my old rival nervous, and that is something that impresses me."

Tom sneered and took a seat near the fireplace, "You don't know how much of a compliment that is, sir."

Grindelwald took the chair opposite Tom and folded his hands neatly in his lap. "I've been thinking about your last letter and what it is that you desire," Grindelwald began, letting his gaze roam slowly over Tom - it was an act that made the boy shiver with unease. He straightened up and stared back at the old man. "As I said, I see promise in you, Tom – but I want to know that you are sincere in what you ask from me. This information is very delicate, very volatile. Not just anyone can be trusted with it. I need to make sure that I can trust you, Tom."

Slowly he nodded, lost for a moment in the sound of the man's words. "How is it that you would like me to prove my trustworthiness?"

"That, my boy, is quite an interesting thing…" The firelight caught the few strands of gold still in his grey hair and cast a halo around his face. For the briefest moment he didn't look as menacing as he was. Then he smiled, the devilishness of it reaching all the way up to his twinkling eyes. Tom fought back a shiver. He wasn't about to show any sign of weakness in front of this man. "I cannot have _everyone_ with a fear of death knocking at my door demanding the secret of eternal life. I require a secret for a secret."

"I don't follow sir," Tom said, growing steadily annoyed again.

"No, I don't suppose you would," he answered condescendingly. "I would like something from you that would ensure me that you never let our little secret slip."

"Blackmail," Tom sneered.

"Precisely."

Tom closed his eyes, rubbing at his temples. How easy would it be to just kill the old man now? He was sure that he could do it, and it would probably be a lot easier to find what he was looking for just by going through the manor than making an exchange he was sure would be unpleasant for him. For as badly as he wanted the answer, he was wary of the cost. This did not sit well with his sense of self-preservation. Casually, he began to let his hand snake down to the pocket of his coat…

Grindelwald had his wand out and under Tom's chin faster than Tom could even get his out of his pocket.

"Tut, tut boy – tell me, how old were you the first time you did the killing curse?"

"Seven," Tom answered, his eyes gleaming in proud memory of the time he'd killed a boy's pet rabbit at the orphanage.

"And since?"

He opened his mouth to respond, but it snapped quickly closed again.

"That's what I thought. Mind your elders, you insolent little wretch." With that, Grindelwald pulled Tom from his chair and tossed him to the floor, where he landed on his knees. Tom tried to right himself, to stand from the wooden floor, but Grindelwald merely took him by the back of his jacket and held him where he knelt.

"We will make our deal or I will toss you out into the snow."

Tom growled and glanced away from Grindelwald. "What? What is it that you want old man?" he spat. "What is it that _I_ can do for _you_?"

"Prove to me that you're worth the knowledge; prove that you would do _anything_ for it."

Tom stared up at the man, his eyes wide with realization. "You've got to be _kidding_!" he growled. "No. No way, old man. Not a chance."

Grindelwald straightened and glanced out into the hall; With a snap of his fingers two dark house-elves appeared in the doorway to the sitting room.

"Will you escort Mister Riddle outside, please?"

As the two house-elves started towards him, Tom got quickly to his feet and took a step backwards towards the chair he'd just been pulled from. "No! Wait!" he said, holding up a hand towards the house-elves and another towards Grindelwald. He would _not_ be tossed out like this; he refused to allow it to happen. He couldn't let himself be disrespected like that, but he couldn't allow himself to submit to this… _man_. It enraged him, because he was stuck between two choices – neither of which he was particularly fond of.

"Choose your next words carefully, Mister Riddle, for they may well determine your fate."

There was a long pause as Tom's eyes intensified and narrowed on Grindelwald's face. He was breathing deeply, his fists clenched at his sides, his fingers itching to reach for his wand. Swallowing back the lump that had formed in his throat, he spoke. "Will you tell me what I want to know if I… give you want you want?" he asked with the bitter taste of bile rising up in his throat.

Grindelwald's smirk widened and he gave Tom one slow nod. "Indeed I will."

His jaw clenched and, upper lip curling in disgust, Tom turned his head away. "What would you have me do, then?"

A triumphant gleam passed over the old man's features. He gave a dismissive wave of his hand and the house-elves exited the room, pulling the heavy double doors closed behind them. An unsettling echo reverberated throughout the room as they shut. Tom felt a shiver run up his spine along with the fleeting thought of '_maybe I should have just let him throw me out_'.

"Take off your jacket first of all, Mister Riddle," Grindelwald instructed.

Tom did as he was asked without a word, shrugging out of his jacket and laying it over the back of the chair.

"Everything else now, slowly…"

As Tom sat down to start at his shoes, Grindelwald moved back to his chair sat down. Tom could feel the man's eyes staring at him, burning into his skin, anticipating what was lying behind his clothes. Tom refused to look at him and refused to wipe the sneer of disgust off his features.

He slowly unlaced his boots, slipping them off and setting them on the floor next to the chair. Next, he pulled off his socks and stuck them down into his boots. He stood again, his gaze downcast and a strand of hair falling away from the rest of his neatly slicked head. His feminine hands started to slowly loosen one tiny white button at a time on his starched and pressed shirt. When he had slid every one from its tiny hole, he hung the shirt over the back of the chair with his jacket. He then reached down, unbuckling his belt and sliding it smoothly from his trousers. He rolled it around his hand and set it on the floor with his shoes. Finally, with his face covered in a searing blush, he unbuttoned his trousers and stepped out of them.

Grindelwald appraised him slowly, his eyes moving along his pale chest, with only the faintest trail of dark curls leading downwards under the waistband of his black briefs. The old man licked his lips lecherously, stroking his chin in thought. There was a list of things he could possibly do running through his mind – cycling and narrowing down rapidly until and smirk curled onto his features. This boy would have to learn that misguided arrogance – especially against one so much more powerful – would always have grave consequences. His ego needed to be dealt with accordingly.

Grindelwald stood swiftly, discarding his robes in a smooth, sweeping motion. He was not as grizzled and wrinkled as Tom had expected him to be. In fact, he had a smooth, flat chest and stomach with the sparsest graying curls across his chest and downward. He approached the boy, looking formidable, and in one brutal move, grabbed him by the hair at the back of his head. He wrenched Tom downwards until he'd fallen to his knees, and instructed him on what to next to do.

Tom felt a moment of unwillingness to submit to this man, but it was swiftly done away with as the pain at the back of his head grew more intense and he realized he had no choice. Grumbling unhappily, he reached up and dutifully undid Grindelwald's trousers, sliding them tentatively down. He grimaced and stared at the floor until something vaguely wet nudged him in the cheek. He looked up and was surprised to see the man's prick barely an inch from his gaping mouth. Before Tom had the chance to say something biting, the head of the thing was between his lips. He couldn't move his head with the hand at the back of it, all he could do was allow the thing to violate his mouth.

Above him, Grindelwald began to instruct him, telling him how to move his tongue and what parts he was to suck – and repeating that , were he to even so much as flinch towards biting, he'd choke him. He did as he was instructed, biding his time until he could figure out some way of getting out of this. His cheeks were flushed hot and red and the prick between his lips had finally come to its full hardness.

Satisfied that the boy was going to behave himself, Grindelwald released him, removed himself from Tom's mouth and instructed him to stand. He did. As Grindelwald's directions were given to him, Tom moved back to his chair, placed a knee on the seat and leaned over, bracing himself with his hands on the arm of the chair and his jaw clenched. He did everything that he was instructed to do, trusting that there would be a fight he wasn't prepared to handle. He was unarmed, and worse than that, he was now stark naked in a house on top of a snow-covered mountain. His last piece of clothing – his briefs – had been removed by the deft hands of the old man now positioning himself behind him. A wave of revulsion and disgust washed over Tom – at himself, at the situation he'd let himself be forced into.

Grindelwald's hands were on his backside, doing things to it that were _unnatural_. He could feel the wetness of the man's mouth and tongue at his hole, probing it. It was…_shameful_. Tom bit his tongue, his eyes wrenched closed. He _had_ to bite it to keep from screaming out when the old man's prick pressed into ass, nails digging hard into the arms of the chair. He winced, bracing himself against the assault. The sensation bordered on pain to him, but it wasn't the sharp piercing pain that he had expected. It was a dull sort of feeling. He found quickly that the more he struggled against it, the more it hurt, so he finally gave up and gave in to it.

The warm hand on his prick caused a choked moan from Tom, and the breathy chuckle in his ear only made him blush deeper. Grindelwald's hand moved slowly along his length – thumb brushing over the slickening head. He was aroused, it felt good, but there was no chance that he would admit that, ever, to anyone. He began thrusting against the hand, panting softly as he felt his body start to respond in a way that he'd never before experienced. He wondered naively if this was what it felt like for a woman to be fucked, but he refused to take that thought any further.

Before he could understand why, he was moaning in response to the man's thrusts and his hand. He was ashamed of himself, ashamed at how he'd been reduced to this – a tool for another individual's pleasure. He promised himself at that moment, that if he was ever given the chance to seek vengeance for this, he would. For now he was lost in his own unexpected pleasure, his body aching for release, breathing heavy and quick, so close…

Grindelwald sensed the boy's quickly-approaching orgasm as well and he slowly slid his hand to the base of his prick, holding his fist there tightly. Tom let out a strangled gasp as his release was stopped short.

"What the fuck did you do?!" he groaned, trying to jerk against Grindelwald's hand.

"Ask for it. This I shall give you with only the stipulation that you obey me."

"Let me come, you bastard!" Tom grunted, gritting his teeth, the agony building slowly.

"I said, _ask_. Here, let me make it easier for you – 'please, Master Grindelwald, may I come?'"

He couldn't understand why it was so hard to repeat the words he was ordered to say. It was degrading and shameful, like the whole situation and he couldn't get past the choking in his throat to speak.

"Now, Tom… the longer you wait, the worse it will be."

"P-please…" he gasped finally, hanging his head in embarrassment. "Please, Master Grindelwald, may I c-come?"

"Why of course, boy."

With that, Grindelwald slid his hand to the head of the boy's prick again and, as he released his hold, so did Tom, spurting hard onto the seat of the chair. His body shuddered in response. Grindelwald took Tom by his hips again and started thrusting, having paused for long enough that this was going to take a while. He could tell when Tom had recovered from his orgasm when he started to moan again. He was incredibly pleased with himself at the effect this was all having, his own ego fluffed by the thought that he could still make a boy young enough to be his grandson twice over, beg to come.

When he could tell he was almost ready to come himself, he pulled out and grabbed Tom by the back of the head. This time he moved without too much difficulty, taking his place on his knees at Grindelwald's feet. The stain he'd left on the seat of the chair was starting to dry, but the house-elves knew how to handle this sort of thing by now.

Without preface or warning, and with a tight hold on the back of the boy's head, Grindelwald came. His seed splattered the side of Tom's face, dripping back into his hair and shooting into his gaping mouth. Instinctively, Tom licked his lips, and cringed slightly at the bitter taste. Grindelwald stared proudly at his stunning achievement – submission.

"Now, what was that you were asking me?" he panted, smirking smugly.

Tom stared at him for the longest moment, stunned that he would keep up his end of the deal so easily. It was… shockingly not that bad. Tom stammered for a moment before he was actually able to speak again, trying to ignore the warm wetness dripping down his left cheek. "How… how do you defeat death?"

The old man snorted in amusement, "Really, boy, I can't take you seriously with bodily fluids on your face," Grindelwald chuckled, patting him on his clean cheek.

Tom growled and reached up, wiping the semen from his cheek and staring venomously at Grindelwald, who was still laughing above him.


End file.
